


Him and Them and Theirs

by CaptainLeBubbles



Series: Maybe You're Here Because You Don't Fit In Anywhere Else (Rollercoaster HSAU) [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3565469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's them. It's always been them.</p><p>or, Grif and Simmons engage in a bit of underage drinking and Grif has an epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Him and Them and Theirs

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a high school au I'm currently working on. The first part is complete and I've just started the second part, and this one falls in between them and I'm only posting it because there's a chance I'll never post the rest and this is the only part that I feel works as a full standalone so, er. Yeah. Only thing you need to know for context is that Grif lives with Sarge for reasons.
> 
> The boys are fifteen here.

o/o

There aren't that many things Dexter Grif likes about living on a shitty farm in Iowa. One of them is the way fresh-turned earth feels when it's been warming in the sun all day. The other is living right next door to Dick Simmons, biggest fucking nerd in the galaxy.

It's been, what, three years? Nearly three years. Three years since Simmons tripped over him in _this very spot_ , and three years since they sat there for three hours arguing and he decided Simmons was a _fucking nerd_ and that he hated him.

Simmons is still a fucking nerd but Grif only hates him sometimes, like when he lectures him about doing better in school and _maybe actually pay attention sometime fatass_ and when he kisses Sarge's ass, longing for the paternal approval that his own father won't give him.

Tonight Sarge is out having dinner with a friend, and Grif took the opportunity to break into his liquor cabinet and steal a bottle of whiskey. How he persuaded Simmons to meet him out here at the fence and drink it with him is beyond him, except that Simmons will eventually do anything Grif asks him to, usually accompanied by a lot of bitching and insults.

So now he's lying in the sun-hot earth beside Simmons and the world is spinning and everything is blurry but it's nice, actually. He wants to tell Simmons something, something really important, so he props up on one elbow and looks down at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

Simmons isn't blurry. Quite the opposite- Simmons is in hyper-focus. Grif can see every detail in sharp definition. Those red-orange curls, cropped close to his head to be manageable. Those eyes, pale greeny bluey grey behind those dumb glasses. And that skin, sun-gold like the hot earth below them, decorated in a galaxy of dark freckles. He knows Simmons is sensitive about his freckles, but Grif fell in love with them the moment he saw them. He can see every one of them, now, the way they overlap each other so densely in places they seem like just a dark brown splotch against a lighter brown expanse.

And _of course_ Simmons is in hyper focus, because Simmons is his constant, that anchor that holds him in place every time it seems like everything is falling apart. Cause Simmons, _god_ , Simmons is so neurotic. He panics and panics and panics and Grif just shrugs and accepts whatever is coming and that calms Simmons and that calms him so _of fucking course_ Simmons is the only thing in focus when his vision is swimming and the world is spinning away.

There's something between them, something that's been building since that first moment Simmons tripped over him, something that is _him_ and _them_ and _theirs alone_ and he thinks he can grasp it now, it's always been just out of reach but this moment of complete clarity makes it so easy to just take it in his hand and it seems so silly, now, that he never realized before and suddenly he's kissing Simmons and Simmons is kissing him back and it's _right_ and it's _real_ and it's _them_.

It's the first time Grif has kissed anyone and he's drunk, and it's sloppy and wet (too wet) and their teeth clash and it doesn't matter because Grif knows, in this moment with the open sky above them and the sun-hot earth below them, he knows that he'll have a hundred, a thousand, a million chances to practice until they can do it perfectly.

Ten, twenty, fifty years from now Grif knows he will tell the story of his and Simmons' first kiss and he will grin cheekily at his kids or his friends' kids or those random kids he just met in the supermarket and he will proudly declare that he _absolutely did not_ throw up on Simmons, that he succeeded in breaking their (first, wonderful, glorious, earth-stopping) kiss and turning away, but right now Simmons just smacks him and calls him a jackass and tells him to _go over there if you're going to do that, god, you're so disgusting_ and he grins and flops back down (avoids the pile of vomit and they'll move soon, they will, he just needs a moment) and holds Simmons' hand because it's _them,_ it's always been them.

o/o

**Author's Note:**

> I love these assholes so much.


End file.
